


Not What Friends Do

by DinosaurGummies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, POV Dean Winchester, Porn Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28629126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinosaurGummies/pseuds/DinosaurGummies
Summary: Cas is clueless about masturbation, and Dean takes it upon himself to rectify the situation.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 176
Collections: Dean/Cas Tropefest 2021 Mid-Winter 5k





	Not What Friends Do

**Author's Note:**

> I saw 'Casturbation' and I knew my first choice for trope...

“Okay, look.” Dean says, even though looking is the thing he shouldn’t be doing and can’t seem to help, now that he’s noticed Castiel’s boner. “Do you… uh, need to… go take care of that? In the bathroom?”

“I do not eliminate waste. And I think it would be difficult at this angle.” Cas frowns.

“No, dude, take care of _that_.”

“Take care how?”

“You know, rub one out? Beat the meat? Shake hands with the one-eyed bishop? Take a solo ride on the bologna pony?”

“Is this one-eyed bishop of particular significance?”

“Oh my god.” Dean groans, head falling back. “Of course. He doesn’t know what choking it is.”

“Choking… what? Dean, I’m very concerned right now about the ramifications of an angel choking a bishop.”

“You’ve never masturbated.”

“I have not. Ah. You were… speaking metaphorically about this act?”

“Can you pause that? Turn that off maybe? It’s getting to me, man.” He gestures to the computer, chalking his own half-chub up to all the tinny moans and the occasional glimpse of titty. “I can’t believe I have to give The Talk to an angel. Okay. It’s okay, Dean-o, you can do this.”

He’d had to give Sam The Talk, that had gone okay. Of course, he didn’t have to teach Sam what masturbation was, and he never walked into a scene like this, he just sat him down after his first shaving lesson and set out some basic safety and etiquette rules and when things got unbearable, they just yelled ‘good talk’ and sat on opposite ends of the motel room, where Dean drank a stolen beer and Sam drank a Coke and they spent the rest of the evening not looking at each other. 

This is… different. 

“I am not familiar with human sexual desire. Though I take it my earthly form is adequate to the task. I have no more understanding than I did when I began my research, but I am experiencing an involuntary response. It… seems to be not unlike the pizza man.” Instead of turning the porno off, Cas indicates the guy’s cock, like he traces a circle around it on the screen with one finger, and this is not what Dean needed. 

He hangs up the Do Not Disturb sign, and hopes he’ll be able to just tell Sam he picked up a girl for a little afternoon delight.

“Okay, look… this? Is not the kind of conversation most friends have. But since you’re an angel and you don’t… like, do this stuff, we’re gonna… We’re doing this once, and then we’re gonna drink and pretend it didn’t happen. I mean…” He groans, looking at the adorable scrunch of confusion on Cas’ face.

Whoa. Not ‘adorable’. 

Deep breath. Start over.

“I mean, we won’t talk about this later, because friends… don’t. And we’re not mentioning any of this in front of Sam!”

“Yes, perhaps it is best if this is between us.”

“Right.” Dean swallows. “I’m just… helping you out. So, if you’re ever, uh… on your own, and you… if _that_ happens, you can, uh…”

Cas looks at him, expectant, and Dean’s mouth goes dry. Which is still the less embarrassing thing that happens to him, because this time, there’s no pretending the throb he feels has anything to do with what’s on screen.

“Okay, look, just…” He sits beside him, and unzips his fly, pushes his shorts down and eases himself out, already a little hard… when did that happen?

Wait, no, better if he doesn’t ask.

He leans over to find the travel-sized tube of lotion buried in his duffel bag.

“Whip it out, okay? And then give me your hand.” He says, motioning for Cas to comply and very much not looking. Which means it’s kind of a shocker when Cas _holds his hand_. “No-- no, palm up, don’t-- We really are starting from the ground up here, huh?”

“I did already tell you I have never done this before.”

“Right. Yeah. No, that’s fine. Growing boy’s gotta learn sometime.”

“I am not a growing boy, Dean.”

“Yeah? Part of you’s growing.”

“I’m an angel.”

“Okay, _angel_ , you’re gonna take that lotion--” Dean squirts some into his upturned palm. “Now you’re gonna work yourself over, okay? Spread it around, get nice and slick. It’s not gonna feel as good if you’re not lubed up, buddy.”

Is ‘buddy’ weird? Maybe ‘buddy’ is weird. But hell, what about this situation isn’t weird?

The little sound Cas makes when his hand first closes around his dick is… _something_. High-pitched, for how deep his voice is, punched out and needy. 

“Yeah, that’s right. It’s supposed to feel good.” He pumps himself, slow, feels his cock fill out further, responding to Cas and not the porn, he can’t pretend it’s about the porn which is still rolling, because he’d tuned that out in favor of paying attention to Cas, even without looking. “That’s what it’s for, this is all about feeling good. _God_ , you’ve never felt anything like this, you really are just a whole new level of virgin.”

“I-- I don’t think the construct of virginity applies to angels.” He gasps. 

“Uh-huh.” He steals a glance, chokes a little on nothing at all seeing how _big_ he is. He’d thought it was big enough when he was just getting a glance at the thing clothed, but hot damn… who knew? It’s _thick_ , and it’s not like Dean’s any slouch himself, he’s never had any complaints and he likes to think he looks pretty good, but Cas looks…

Not that Dean has opinions about how other dudes’ dicks look, but Cas looks…

Okay, Dean has opinions about dicks, Dean has strong opinions about dicks. Dicks other than his own. Lots of them.

He tries not to think about it, tries not to think about wanting to give a handie in a bar bathroom to a guy with the right kind of swagger, tries not to think about the dreams he’s had, lying under a man in the dark, rough stubble against his throat or his thighs, big hands on his body and wanting, _wanting_ … 

He’s spent his whole life trying not to think those thoughts, and now he’s sitting next to a frigging angel, watching him yank his frankly enormous rod, and he wants some things that he’s never been able to talk about before and definitely can’t talk about now-- to, again, a frigging angel-- but he’s hit the point where he can’t really deny it to himself. It’s not that the ladies aren’t great, they’re awesome. It’s not that he hasn’t fully enjoyed the sex he’s had, he has-- at least he’s enjoyed _way_ more of it than he hasn’t. It’s just that there’s so much he’s never allowed himself, and he’s hungry for it.

He’s starving.

“This is… a fantastic sensation.” Cas breathes the words out, his head falling back, the line of his throat a thing of frigging beauty. 

Dean wants to lick it. Wants to start at the vee of his shirt and lick a stripe up to his chin, wants to know what his stubble feels like against his tongue and wants to know if angels sweat, and if they do, what that sweat tastes like.

“You don’t have to talk about it, I know it’s a fantastic friggin’ sensation, I’ve done this before.”

“Dean…” He moans, his head rolls to the side, and Dean shouldn’t look, but he does, looks at him and sees his eyes, stunning blue and pleasure-glazed and looking at _him_ with awe. “Thank you, for showing this to me.”

“Uh-- uh, yeah.” He swallows. “You, uh, you want some pointers?”

“Pointers?” He looks confused, which shouldn’t be adorable, and then he licks his lips and Dean’s just, he’s _gone_.

“Yeah. You know, pointers. Tips? How to switch things up, keep it good?”

“More… more good? Than this?” He pants, his brow furrows, it’s not funny and it’s not fair how much Dean is aching to kiss him.

“Yeah, better than this. Here… watch-- watch what I do.” He suggests, and just like that, Cas’ laser focus snaps to his dick, and he’s leaking now, his leg’s already getting to shaking, just a little. He rubs his palm over the head, just teasing himself as it jerks. Sits up and begs for some solid attention.

Which he gives it. Shows Cas how to vary the speed, the grip, how to throw in a little twist here… he works his balls, too, rolls them in his other palm and gives a little tug because sometimes it’s good like that. Pulls off and edges himself with just tracing his fingertips over himself, then traps his cock against his stomach and just grinds into his hand. The whole shebang.

“Sometimes I go in with the left hand instead. It’s clumsier, but it shakes things up. I know this is a whole new world right now, but when you get used to doing it enough, you wanna find ways to keep things fresh. Romance yourself a little, you deserve it.”

“Uh-huh…” Cas’ voice is breathy, barely there, and it’s liquid sex, it’s deep as thunder and sweet as honey, it’s gravel in a velvet bag, it’s everything a voice ought to be when it’s hot in your ear and coming out of the person you’re desperate to bring off. 

Which in a roundabout way, Dean figures is true.

“Sometimes you wanna, uh, you can sit on your hand first? I mean, you sit on your hand until it’s kinda numb, so when you jerk it, it’s kinda like somebody else is doing it?”

“Why?” Cas frowns up at him, his hand stilling, the slick lotioned sound of hand on cock coming to a halt. “Is it more pleasurable when done by another person?”

“Uh… y-yeah, I mean…”

“Would it be more pleasurable if I did this for you?”

“Oh shit…” Dean squeezes at the base of his dick, but the rest of him is twitching in sympathy now, the muscles along his inner thighs tightening and his leg bouncing harder and his abs jumping, his whole body protesting holding off now. “Um, that’s-- I mean, yeah, just-- that’s not something friends _do_.”

“Oh.” He turns away again. His hand starts moving, slow. 

They both try to watch the screen.

“Is that more pleasurable?” Cas asks, as the chick in the porno goes to fucking _town_ on pizza man’s cock. 

Like, no gag reflex. 

It’s pretty impressive.

“It’s pretty good for the guy getting blown.” Dean shrugs. “She’s faking it, though.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Deep Throat’s not real and nobody’s got a g-spot down the back of their throat.” He says, like he wouldn’t choke himself on Cas in a hot second if it wasn’t probably some kind of blasphemy and almost certain to fuck up whatever weird kind of friendship they have.

“You haven’t done this, though.”

“No-- Dude, no, of course I haven’t sucked a guy off, like I said, it’s not… It doesn’t… I don’t--”

“ _Dean_.” It’s an admonishment, almost disappointed.

He almost blows his wad right there.

“I haven’t!”

“I know. But I know… you desire men.” His head falls back again, Dean sort of wants to bite him. That throat. “ _Ohh_ , I-- I know you have… You’ve looked and wanted, always too afraid… You don’t need to be.”

“What--?”

“You are a good man, Dean. And love is never wrong.”

“Yeah, well, I hate to break it to you, Cas, but it ain’t exactly ‘love’ when you want a stranger in a biker bar to bend you over the pool table and you want him to leave the cowboy boots on.”

Cas laughs, soft and beautiful, infused with sex, and he gives him one of those looks again, soft and heated, his head rolled to the side, his eyes half-lidded… 

“You should let yourself be loved.”

“Sure. There’s a line out the door, I’ll just start the free-for-all. Ladies, come and get a piece. Hell, fellas, too. Why not?”

“No, Dean, you should let yourself be _loved_. You should let someone revere and adore you. In the way that you deserve…”

“And what if I don’t? Deserve?” He stops, flagging. Cas might be a hell of a turn-on, but this… trying to assess his _worth_? Trying to imagine another person wanting more than a good time out of him? 

Little bit of a boner kill.

“ _Dean_ …” Cas looks at him like the question breaks his fucking heart, like he could be that person, and it’s confusing as hell, it makes Dean’s guts twist up, but it’s also the opposite of a boner kill. “You deserve. Please… please permit me to show you what it is you deserve. Allow me to adore you.”

“Holy shit… Cas, I can’t-- I can’t let you do that.”

“No, of course.” He turns away, faster than Dean thinks he should be able to move, his expression tight. “You don’t… you don’t want that, from me. I understand, of course. I…”

“Wait--” Dean reaches out before he can think twice, the left hand he’d mostly not been using wrapping around the wrist of Cas’ right, the hand he’d very much been using up ‘til just then. “That’s not it.”

“I won’t ask for anything.” Cas promises, and the look of hope he turns back on Dean over something so small, over being allowed to… to what, to give a handjob and get nothing? It’s worse than heartbreaking. “If I can show you, just once, how worthy you are, that’s enough for me.”

“Well it’s not enough for me. Look… I’m not gonna pretend here, I think we both know I’ve got a pretty shitty track record where relationships are concerned. You know that about me, right? If you know I’ve been wanting things I haven’t been chasing, you know that. But… you and me? We’re not… I’m not using you to check off some box or pretend getting touched by an angel doesn’t count for gay shit. Bisexual shit, maybe, I-- I guess, maybe. I don’t know, okay? I just-- If you wanna touch me, you can. But I gotta touch you back. And if you think I deserve… any of the things you said, well hell, you’re--”

“Dean…”

“No, you’re-- okay? Listen to me, you’re a big friggin’ deal here.”

“I am an angel, it doesn’t make me inherently worthy. I… might dazzle, but I’m not…”

“Not what? Not ‘good enough’? Not ‘worthy’? I think that’s up to _me_. I mean I’m the one you wanna trade handjobs with.”

Cas shivers and moans, bucks up into his own hand, and Dean’s afraid to kiss him, but he lets his hand slide from Cas’ wrist, up to his hand, up to his cock. Starts working it with him, slow and steady, feeling the heat of him, incredible...

Cas’ hand leaves his own cock, tentatively reaches for Dean’s, and he might be unversed at this, but his grip is sure and firm and just right. Cas barely knows what _he_ likes out of a stroke session, but he touches Dean like he knows every single hot button he’s got. 

Maybe he does. 

Maybe he knows every single thing Dean likes because he’s been in him so deep, which only really sounds dirty when he puts it that way, only really sounds sexy because this is all going on while he and Cas are barely pretending to watch porn together and he doesn’t know if this is a ‘relationship’ exactly, maybe it’s just two guys who occasionally say things about each other’s worth and jack each other off and face the forces of Heaven and Hell for each other but don’t slap a label on it or kiss or nothing.

Or maybe they kiss. 

He’s fucking terrified, but maybe they kiss.

His lips land on Cas’ neck when he leans over. He does sweat, but it doesn’t taste earthly. It tastes like a thunderstorm ready to break. It tastes like something sweeter than the Heaven he knows is out there waiting.

And then Cas turns and kisses him, and then…

And then boy howdy, but if Heaven is anything other than reliving this kiss for eternity, he doesn’t want any part of it. 

They both come, they both make beautifully undignified noises against each other’s mouths, messy. Hot. The stroking tapers off, the kissing doesn’t. Slows down, becomes more reassuring little nuzzling pecks than a makeout session, and he can feel when Cas smiles against his lips, non jacking-it hand cupping his cheek and keeping him close.

“That was… the superior experience.” He sighs.

“Yeah?”

“Very. Dean… another time, could we try that other thing?”

“Oh, we can try _all_ the things, but you gotta give me like half an hour.”

“Half an hour?” Cas frowns. He’s literally still hard and judging by the look on his face, ready for round two.

“... Twenty minutes?”

“The human way of doing things is always so _slow_. Twenty minutes before I can use my mouth on you?”

“ _Maybe_ fifteen minutes, if you wanna keep talking about how you can’t wait to blow me, but don’t get used to it. I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but in a couple years it’s probably getting slower.”

The frown turns into something very like a pout, and his eyes rake over Dean’s body, eliciting a completely useless twitch of interest where the spirit is willing and the flesh needs twenty minutes-- give or take. He pushes Dean’s shirt up, palm flat on his bare stomach. 

“This is disappointing, I had hoped to make the most of our time before Sam’s return. And I don’t _want_ to wait to ‘blow’ you. I may have to do so in the shower. Still… that would be acceptable to me if it is to you.”

“Is getting a blowjob, in the shower, from an angel, with lips like _that_ , acceptable to _me_? Oh, _hell_ yes.”

“Good.” And he settles in with his head against Dean’s shoulder, radiating contentment.


End file.
